


Helmstuck

by knightoftam, peterpandemic



Category: Homestuck
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Gen, Image Heavy, Medievalstuck, Multi, You Have Been Warned, like really image heavy, sort of, trigger warning: minor blood and gore
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-07-23
Updated: 2012-07-23
Packaged: 2017-11-10 13:00:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,312
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/466582
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/knightoftam/pseuds/knightoftam, https://archiveofourown.org/users/peterpandemic/pseuds/peterpandemic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John Egbert is a blacksmith's son who embarks on an epic quest to avenge the murder of his beloved Nanna.  Along the way he encounters new friends, old enemies, and unthinkably cliché plot twists.  He also probably saves the world, but you didn't hear that from me.</p><p>(Currently updating as a fan adventure on tumblr; to read the most recent updates and/or submit commands with varying degrees of sincerity, feel free to check it out <a href="http://helmstuck.tumblr.com/">here</a>.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Helmstuck

###  **CHAPTER ONE:** in which canon is dragged down a dark alleyway, beaten, robbed, and forced to perform in an incredibly shitty circus for the rest of its life

Your name is JOHN EGBERT. Today is simultaneously the worst and most important day of your life, but you will get to that in a minute. You are the son and HEIR to a peasant blacksmith, and you have spent the entirety of your existence growing up in the quaint, rustic village of GENERICVILLE. The sweaty, dirty toil of metalcraft which you have been born into occupies the bulk of your time, but you also have a variety of APPROPRIATELY MEDIEVAL INTERESTS. Befitting one of your low class, you enjoy CLEVER CARD TRICKS and TALL TALES, particularly those involving SPECTRAL LORE. You are a cunning trickster and will proudly defend your PRANKSTER’S GAMBIT until your DYING BREATH. Although you have a good life here, sometimes you feel like you’re destined for SOMETHING MORE.

You’re not thinking about any of that right now, though.

Right now, you’re thinking about the achingly familiar face before you, and how much more reassuring it looked when it was not attached to a corpse.

**== >**

This is so completely illegal.

You’re not sure why you said that, but still, this is incredibly sad! Your beloved NANNA, patient and nurturing guide and guardian for all of your sixteen years, has just gone the way of all flesh. Bit the big one. Cashed in her chips. Or, to use the vernacular of your neighbours to the east, SHE HAS KICKED THE BUCKET.

(You don’t use language like that out loud, though. Nobody does, not unless they want to get a rapier through their throat.)

One way or another, this was like the fastest mentor death ever, and the grisly scene before you was clearly the result of no workplace accident (which are actually responsible for a whopping 37% of untimely medieval deaths, second only to battles against evil wizards). These particular grievous wounds scream murder, and murder most foul.

**> John: Why exactly is it the most important day of your life, again?**

Well gee, it’s not like you lose a beloved guardian and role model every day, is it?

But anyway you don’t recall ever saying it was the most _important_ day of your life. The worst, definitely. But the most important? You have your whole life ahead of you; it would take some kind of critical personal decision on your part for you to call it the most _important_ day, like undertaking an epic quest or something ridiculous like that which will probably never happen.

That sort of thing only happens in stupid idiot stories for stupid idiots.

**> John: Cry.**

No.

**> John: Search for clues! To help you find the culprit! And use far too many exclamation points!**

That sounds like a much more useful idea!!!

You remind yourself that turning into a blubbering mess won’t help anyone do anything at all, then decide to focus on what’s important: figuring out what happened to your poor old Nanna.

You don’t feel like looking at all that blood any more, so you decide to check your surroundings for clues. The door to the nearby smithy is open. Your Nanna was probably about to light the forge for the day when she was interrupted by, well, death.

You give the smithy a quick inspection, keeping your tender young eyes peeled for anything that might be out of place, but everything seems to be in order.

**> John: Who makes all those swords, anyway?**

YOU DO, AND YOU PRACTICE WITH THEM THREE HOURS A DAY

**> John: Retrieve your arms, there is a crime to be solved!**

Nah, you were just kidding. The two arms you were born with are arms enough for you (with the possible exception of any hilarious prank-related prosthetics you might happen to come by in the future). You make weapons, sure, but you’ve never really felt comfortable carrying them around with you.

Swords are sharp. And they kill innocent nannas.

**> John: Check wounds to see what type of weapon was used.**

You exit the smithy and try to clear your mind as you re-examine your Nanna’s body. The cause of death is fairly obvious, on account of the giant gaping hole in her abdomen. You haven’t seen many injuries like this firsthand, but you’d bet that any long, straight-bladed sword would be capable of creating a wound like this one.

**> John: Don’t think about it.**

You’re trying not to think too hard about anything at all right now. As you start to turn away, though, something in the dust near Nanna catches your eye.

**> John: Retrieve improbably sparkly object.**

It’s a short length of broken jewellery chain, joined with a clasp. You recognize it immediately — your Nanna always used to wear a ring on this chain around her neck. You scan the dust around you carefully, but you don’t see the ring anywhere.

Your mind whirs. Would someone want that ring badly enough to steal it? To kill for it? You don’t even think it was real gold. Maybe the chain just got cut when she… when the killer…

**== >**

You proceed to spend an indeterminate amount of time definitely not crying.

**> John: Be someone else. This is depressing as hell.**

You are now someone else, a someone else fortunate enough not to be afflicted with totally understandable grief over the recent loss of a beloved guardian. This someone else, who it just so happens you now are, is named DAVE STRIDER. You are a KNIGHT in the royal court of TERRA NOVA, and it’s pretty clear to anyone with eyes that you’re a DAMN GOOD ONE. The ladies at court are always mackin’ on you something fierce, but HEY WHATEVER. Your confidence is bobbing somewhere slightly below your usual level today, though. You broke your sword this morning. Again. Sometimes you think you might be cursed to wield HALF-SWORDS forever.

Luckily you know someone who’s good at blacksmithing. God knows you’ve given him enough practice in the TIME you’ve known him.

**> Dave: Pose in a totally cool way.**

You don’t need to pose in any particular way to look cool.

It’s just a part of who you are and everyone else needs to learn to deal with it.

**> Dave: Fondly recall having sloppy makeouts with said blacksmith.**

You recall nothing of the sort! Mr. Egbert is like three times your age — plus he’s your best bro’s dad! What the hell!

If you ever _did_ decide to cash in any of the multiple makeout offers you’ve received in your still relatively short lifetime, you can be sure it’d only be for someone who’s damn well worth your time. And besides, sloppy is just not a thing you’d do!

Why are we still talking about this! Stop talking about this! You will not give the matter another thought!

**> Dave: Quit knighthood forever and join a travelling band of minstrels.**

Well, you could do that, yeah, if you were completely fucking insane. You have no doubt that you would be a totally badass insane minstrel if that were the case, of course, thanks to your proficiency with EPIC SLAM BALLADRY — just one of the astounding variety of unrelated and debatably medieval-flavoured talents you possess.

But you can’t quit being a knight. That would be letting _him_ win, and that’s something you just can’t do.

**> Dave: Elaborate on who “him” is.**

Forget about it!

Don’t you have something else you should be doing?

**> Dave: Go to the blacksmith about your sword.**

You are already on your way.

Try to keep up.

**> Skip.**

Your perplexingly nonspecific command forces the story to jump forward an uncertain number of minutes, or possibly hours, leaving you with no knowledge of whatever interesting, character-building events might have transpired in that period of time. Or maybe you just saved yourself from having to read another thirty pages of Strider dodging a never-ending shitstorm of increasingly invasive prods into his mental state. Either way, let’s just assume you haven’t missed much.

When you finally catch up to the story, you are still Dave Strider, and you have just arrived in front of the shabby (and yet still somehow charming, in a smoke-stained and peasanty sort of way) abode of the Egbert family, huddled snugly alongside the western edge of Genericville.

You haven’t even had time to settle on a greeting that is appropriately nonchalant and yet still sort of sincere in your own intangible way when John Egbert comes running towards you like he’s the world’s littlest, blondest child actor and you just backed up to his house with a heart full of regret and a wagon full of bargain-priced stuffed bunnies.

If you hadn’t been so distracted trying to scramble into your verbal coolkid persona on the fly, and maybe if you didn’t insist on wearing completely anachronistic eyewear that obscures about fifty percent of your vision at all times, you might have noticed that John Egbert’s hands were smeared with copious quantities of someone else’s blood.

You completely fail to notice this.

good morning sunshine  
dave!!  
whoa easy there egbert  
i know you must miss me something terrible when im not around  
spend your days weeping like a neglected housewife into your pillow til its damp enough to give your grandma four especially thorough sponge baths in a row  
hell who am i kidding im here like every second day anyway  
hey is there some kind of discount for frequent fuckups because i dont want to think that youve been holding out on me  
dude, shut up, this is serious! my nanna's dead, i think she has been murdered!  
wait what  
are you sure  
of course i'm sure, i read the caption!  
oh man  
christ im sorry  
where is she

**> First, be John. Then, show Dave.**

  


what are you going to do  
i don't know, but i am seriously freaking out here! my dad isn't supposed to be back for another two days!  
oh god, what am i going to say to him?  
oh god oh god oh god oh god  
dave, i should have been there for her!  
what so you could get yourself added to that shish kabob  
no, to protect her!  
ok  
ok no listen  
this wasnt your fault  
if youd been here then whoever did this to her would have just gotten you too  
look at her man shes got a hole in her the size of planet fucking jupiter or some shit  
fuck are you crying  
jesus  
im sorry  
uh  
egbert  
egbert  
john  
argh, no, i'm fine!!  
i just don't know what to do, but i know i need to do SOMETHING.  
does that make sense?  
yeah  
uh  
i dont know did she have any enemies  
no way, nanna was the nicest, smartest, gutsiest old lady ever!  
wait...  
there is something a little weird, i guess.  
she always wore this fancy ring on a chain around her neck, but when i found her this morning, it was gone!  
i don't think it was fancy enough to murder someone over, though.  
egbert are you completely fucking retarded nothing is worth murdering someone over  
believe it or not there is no handy murder checklist for this kind of thing  
oh sorry maam i was totally thinking about offing you for a minute there but i almost forgot you only kicked 4/5 of the requisite puppies last year  
also your jewellery only ranks a 6/10 on the egbertian scale of fanciness  
whoops my bad let me take you out to dinner to make it up to you  
yeah, ok, whatever, shut up. i am just a little shaken up by all this...  
you know.  
death.  
and stuff.  
i don't know. what would you do?

**== >**

  


id go after the bastard  
really?  
yeah  
open a bottle of vengeance on his granny murderin ass  
better break out the good goblets cause this shits the finest vintage there is  
you stab one strider in the gut you stab all striders in the gut is what im sayin  
both striders i mean  
but thats just me  
i don't know.  
i mean i'm pretty upset but i don't really see what the point of revenge would be.  
other than being all dramatic and cape flippy and other stuff that you seem to think is cool for some reason.  
hey  
but maybe it would help if i got back her ring?  
it was obviously pretty important to her.  
sure why not  
its as good a reason to set out on a heroic quest as any  
its obviously magical anyway  
i mean seriously was there ever any doubt over the magical nature of this casually mentioned trinket thats been in your family for generations  
she might as well have whispered keep it secret keep it safe in your ear at night  
...i'll go get my stuff.

**> John: Go get your stuff.**

You go get your stuff. You’re not sure how long it will take you to get your nanna’s ring back (or how you’re planning to do so at all, really, but you’ll worry about that later), so you grab the small amount of money you have to your name and as much food as you can cram into one of your dad’s old travel sacks.

You’re attempting to fit four potatoes in a pocket that was clearly only meant for three when you notice what looks like a small scrap of parchment wedged between your tubers.

**> John: Rescue note from unruly taters and read what it has to say.**

 ** ******

****

Yeah ok, whatever dad!

**== >**

You don’t have time to get sentimental. You scrawl a hasty note to your dad on the back of the parchment, explaining in as few details as possible where you’re going and hoping that you’ll be back in time to tell him in person, even though a small part of you hopes you’ll be gone forever.

When your bag is full, you hurry back outside and meet up with Dave again, who is standing around being all chill like cool dudes are known to do sometimes.

****

ok, i'm ready. i'd better get going if i want to have a chance of catching up with him.  
whoa hold on a second are you seriously just going to go after this guy unarmed  
yeah, why not?  
john  
look at your nanna  
now back to me  
now back at your nanna  
now back to me  
now ask me again why its not a great idea to run blindly out into the wilderness without taking anything you could maybe use to defend yourself  
i just don't really like swords, ok, jeez.  
i mean, look at what one did to nanna.  
egbert  
swords dont kill people  
assholes kill people  
thats really all there is to say on the matter  
now go pick out a weapon or ten from your warehouse of death over there  
fine, i will. but i am not taking a sword.

**> John: Enter warehouse of death.**

**== >**

**== >**

You take the only tool that’s ever felt right in your hands.

You hope your dad won’t mind too much.

**> John: Read mysterious note under hammer.**

Jeez, dad! You have been able to lift this hammer for years already. What’s with all this sudden exposition on things you’ve known forever, anyway?

Next thing you know, someone will be trying to give you the name you already have.

**== >**

alright, NOW i'm ready.  
fucking hell egbert  
between you and that hammer i dont know whos the bigger tool  
bluh!!!  
what now? seriously dude, i am really kind of too busy to wait around while you accessorize me like some kind of crappy knight doll!  
ok ok fuck calm your tits  
the plainly agitated state of your manboobs is making me a little uncomfortable here  
that's gross, dave.  
yeah i know  
listen i just dont want to see you get your ass handed to you by some raving sword swinging douchebag ok  
i do happen to have some experience with raving sword swinging douchebags myself you know  
just thought id offer some of that shit up to my best bro before he takes off on his heroic quest thing  
but whatever man  
hm.  
if i didn't know you better i'd think you were trying to tell me you actually cared about my well being.  
that isnt even close to a thing id say  
i know, that's why i said it for you.  
dork.

**> John: Get on with it!**

ok  
so are you going now or what  
almost, i mean i still...  
oh wait! dave!  
i was so caught up in all this call to adventure stuff that i almost forgot to ask why you were here in the first place!  
yeah thanks for that  
dont mind me, just walked halfway across the kingdom so i could have the honor of glimpsing your dorky mug once today  
my life is now complete  
ill be going now  
haha, you broke your sword again, didn't you?  
yeah they just dont make em like they used to  
i should probably find a better blacksmith  
whatever, you know as well as i do that you break new swords just as often as you break the ones me and my dad fix.  
maybe you just need to be a better knight.  
fu  
these are just the worlds shittiest swords ok  
end of story  
well, i guess i could try and fix it for you before i go.  
i mean, it might take a while, the forge isn't even lit...  
that's probably what nanna was about to do when she came down here...  
no dont worry about it  
youve got other shit to do remember  
rings to rescue  
murderers to bring to justice  
days to save  
etc etc  
ill just borrow another shitty sword from someone at the castle  
right.  
well.  
sorry you came all the way out here for nothing, then.  
shrug  
you probably missed all kinds of important knightly activities, huh.  
yeah i guess  
probably going to miss out on a lunch date with some total babe.  
like four of them  
haha, your bro is totally going to kick your ass when you get back.  
oh my fucking god egbert  
can you shut your bucktoothed trap and be slightly less of a huge dickwad than is your natural state for five seconds  
do you want me to come with you or not

**== >**

wait, what?  
do you WANT to come with me?  
eh  
its all the same to me  
not doing much today  
here anyway  
you know, anything to help keep your soft vulnerable head attached to the rest of you for one more day  
er...  
yeah i know it was a dumb idea  
forget i said anything  
in fact i didnt say anything  
the hell are you on about egbert  
conversing with those imaginary voices in your mind again are we  
youre a fucking head case man sometimes i wonder why were even friends  
holy crap dave, i never said i didn't want you to come!  
oh  
to answer your question, it would be nice to have some friendly company on the road.  
or even your company, i guess.  
fuck you man  
haha, chill out dude! i am just messing with you.  
seriously, thanks.  
we will make awesome adventure partners, i can tell.  
it is our destiny.  
lets not make this awkward  
but there's still one more thing i have to do before we leave.  
and i know it's kind of a lot to ask, but do you think you could, you know... help me with it?  
if you're okay with it, anyway.  
you don't have to or anything.  
no its cool  
i was wondering when youd stop dicking around and just ask

**== >**

**== >**

**== >**

if you say anything about sick fires right now, i will probably kill you.  
wasnt going to  
this is pretty sick though  
yeah.  
i know.

  
**> John, Dave: Embark.**   


  


  


**END CHAPTER ONE.**


End file.
